


Around The World In 40 Days

by fatfingers



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: I don't own these people, M/M, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatfingers/pseuds/fatfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Yeah, right, like no way in hell he was going to participate in some Amazing Race. But still, here he was three months later, standing in a crowded field, waiting to get instructions on where to go and what to do and what not to do.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Around The World In 40 Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 'Around the world in 40 days' prompt in the 2011 May Merthur party. Has been changed since. Kind of a lot. Beta'd by my Kiru, and Celina.

Originally posted on LJ [here](http://fatfingers22.livejournal.com/5660.html#cutid1).

* * *

Merlin would have never gone through with this if it wasn't for Gwen. He had been traveling his entire life because of his uncle Gaius. He could travel with only a satchel, and if he missed his flight or train, he always knew the second best way, but he had never even thought about going pro.

 

So on that February morning he was standing outside Gaius' herb store – scarf tightly wrapped, shoulders locked and his hands white-knuckled in his pockets – with Gwen shoving the ad in his face, hairy gloves and all, he just blinked at her like she was crazy.

 

Yeah, right, like no way in hell he was going to participate in some  _Amazing Race_. But still, here he was three months later, standing in a crowded field, waiting to get instructions on where to go and what to do and what not to do. Always so many rules. This was why he worked with natural substances and worked only for Gaius and himself.

 

Fortunately it was May, so no cold, not to mention he had started preparing early.

 

“I don't even know why people bother showing up. Everyone knows I'm going to beat this shit,” a male voice behind him said.

 

Merlin had been an inch from backing out until this prat showed up. Huh, he'd show him.

 

  
Merlin sighed, rolling his eyes shut before turning around to face the guy. “Look, you might win, no one knows, but there's no reason to be a jerk about it,” when he opened his eyes, he was not expecting to be facing Arthur Pendragon: the most famous pilot of the 21st century (after Uther, his father). This guy was actually a professional traveler.

 

Merlin didn't really know what to do. He was even more nervous since Arthur's longtime co-pilot, Leon, stood beside him.

 

Should he apologize? Should he explain? He had to admit he never really liked the guy – always seemed like a shallow jerk in the papers and TV - even though he was a marvelous pilot and his record was clean.

 

Okay sure, he was now standing in front of him, dirty blonde hair perfectly disheveled, wearing jeans and a shirt with a purple striped tie: well-put-together and poised – smirking at him none the less – but Merlin still thought he was a prat. An achingly gorgeous ass-prat.

 

“Tell me,” Arthur said looking down at Merlin's name tag (another thing Merlin thinks is really stupid about all this), “Merlin,” he continued, his smirk widening. “Do you know how to walk on your knees?”

 

Was he flirting with him, or just being an ass who fights a lot? “Nope,” Merlin decided to just play it cool. This response would work either way, even though he was kind of lying.

 

“Would you like me to help you?” Arthur asked.

 

“I wouldn't if I were you..” Merlin still wasn't sure if Arthur was flirting or not, but the one thing he definitely knew was that he had the upper hand when it came to actual 'knee walking' because Arthur had been heard and seen with a lot of girls, and rumored to have been with even more.

 

“Why? What are you going to do to me?” His grin only got bigger and bigger.

 

The corner of Merlin's mouth couldn't help but jump up at that. “You have no idea,” Arthur really did have  **no**  idea.

 

“Be my guest! Come on...”

 

Merlin turned to look at a stage in the middle of the field drawn to a woman's voice coming from a megaphone. “Okay! Hello everyone, my name is Morgana and I'm one of the planners of this, and will be overseeing the competition. You all know the rules, travel the world within 40 days no matter how you do it, but no cheating! Now if everyone's ready you can start when you hear the gunshot,” she stood in the middle of the stage. Her grassy green flower-printed dress fluttered in the slight breeze.

 

“I guess we'll have to continue this later,” Merlin said, eyes fixed on Morgana's long, curly black hair.

 

“You're just afraid 'cause I could take you apart with one blow,” said Arthur. He was also watching Morgana, but focused more on the gun in her hand.

 

Merlin smiled genuinely at that. “I could take you apart with less than that. I just didn't want to hurt you. The others can't get a head start now, can they? Bet you're a really sore loser.”

 

Arthur moved his gaze to Merlin, his grin now somehow fonder. And that's when they heard the gunshot.

 

\--------------------------------

 

First stop was Iceland. Shit. Iceland. And he was talking about it not being cold.

 

He made Gwen drive him to the airport. Fortunately, and unfortunately, it was the only way there. Merlin loved flying, his favorite way of traveling actually, but it could take so much time.

 

When Merlin arrived he noticed it wasn't actually that cold, but rather neutral. There were very few clouds in the sky, no wind, the sun barely shone, but it was warm.

 

He decided to rent a small motorcycle and drive to Reykjavík where he knew a lot of cruise ships made berth. He was going to find one headed to America. He did stop at the market "Perlan" to check out the inside. It had a very distinctive shape. Basically it looked like a giant boob. He was inside a boob. Now that's something not everyone can say.

 

Apparently Icelanders really like genitalia; "Perlan" looks like a boob and their mall “Smáralind” looks like a penis.

 

And while Merlin was in "Perlan", he also checked out the view. One of the best ones in Reykjavík. Overlooking a lot of places like Reykjavík, Kópavogur, Seltjarnarnes, Arnarnes, and in good weather like this even Keflavík and Grafarvogur. Probably the best place to be on New Years: dark skies illuminated by building- and Christmas lights, the fireworks topping it all on midnight.

 

He noticed a conveniently docked cruise ship in port. When he had loaded his motorcycle with the cars in the lower level, he went upstairs to the open hallway. Relieved, Merlin propped himself against a wall only to notice Arthur chilling on one of the bench-chairs. Great,  _he_  was there too. The thought of the boob (even though he really wasn't a fan of boobs) helped him stay fairly optimistic. He did pout though.

 

Of course when Arthur noticed him, that look from before appeared again – or a different one, Merlin wasn't sure. Arthur pushed himself off the bench-chair and made his way towards Merlin.

 

Oh, god. What now? Was Arthur going to beat him up? Because, even though he could win him at 'knee-walking,' Merlin couldn't punch to save his life.

 

“Hi,” ugh his smug face. “You ready to continue our conversation?” Fuck, he actually enunciated conversation. “I won't bite, but I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth.”

 

Shit, Merlin had forgotten this guy was also a boxer. Well, it was a hobby but Merlin had never guessed he was assassin-material. Merlin still chose to play it cool. “Wow, and how long have you been training to be a prat?”

 

Arthur's grin growing bigger – wow, Merlin was really getting tired of that ridiculous face – Arthur moved his hand to rest beside Merlin's head. “You can't address me like that.”

 

“Sorry...” Merlin looked down. “How long have you been training to be a prat...” Why couldn't he? Arthur was no better than him, what was he going to call him? “Sir?” He met Arthur's eyes again; that would probably do fine.

 

Arthur's annoying smirk became a full blown smile and instead of punching Merlin like he expected Arthur to, Arthur grabbed Merlin's hair and closed the tiny distance between them.

 

“There's something about you, Merlin. Can't quite put my finger on it,” he whispered to Merlin's jawline.

 

And then he started nibbling at his jawline. And before Merlin knew it he felt Arthur's hot tongue covering the tiny bite marks, followed by Arthur sucking on his skin.

 

Okay. Definitely flirting. Shit. How was he supposed to play it cool now? He probably wasn't, so he just closed his eyes and shivered.

 

Merlin felt Arthur's teeth barely graze his chin with one final nibble. Arthur said, “I'll see you at the finish line.”

 

And then he was gone.

 

\--------------------------------

 

The cruise ship stopped in Greenland. Merlin didn't really do much there, except admire how much everything was like he had seen in books and movies, and wait for the ship to leave for America.

 

He didn't see Arthur again during that leg of the journey. He also did not complain about him to Gwaine, who was an illegally handsome bartender at the ship's way too expensive bar.

 

\--------------------------------

 

America. The land of dreams. How Merlin wished he could stay there forever. So much to do, so little time.

 

The cruise ship had stopped in New York so he drove from there through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois,Wisconsin, and Minnesota from which he entered Canada.

 

During his stay in Canada he stopped in Kenora to take his picture under Huskie the Muskie because apparently that was a must.

 

  
From there Merlin drove to Winnipeg. He decided to go to the Royal Winnipeg Ballet or RWB. He had heard great things about it and he really did like the arts.

 

Merlin was running late though because he barely had time to park his motorcycle at the train station and throw his luggage in a rental locker. So, when he hurried towards the huge door at RWB – tying his tie, and tugging his shirt in – he ran into someone. The man looked even more stressed than Merlin.

 

“Fuck! Sorry. You all right?” Merlin said to the man, and helped him pick up the book he dropped.

 

“Yeah, God. I'm fine. How 'bout you?” the man – the really pretty man, Merlin thought – replied, rubbing his forehead.

 

“I'm good.” Merlin chuckled. “So, Shakespeare?” he held up the book.

 

“Oh, yeah. Cymbeline is one of my favorites,” he grinned, almost apologetically. “I'm Lance, by the way. And I'm also really late to clothing and makeup.”

 

“Hi, I'm Merlin. Wait, you dance for RWB?” Merlin asked, stunned.

 

“Yeah, not really a guy's guy, huh?” Lance smiled.

 

“Hah! Know the feeling,” Merlin laughed. After a moment of awkward silence, he added,“...but I don't want to hold you, and I should really find my seat before people get pissed.”

 

“Wow, yeah, shit. Uhm, come 'round the back when it's finished, yeah? I can hear you're an outsider, and I could really use some company after the show,” Lance winked at him.

 

Merlin really couldn't have picked a better activity. The ballet outshoneevery review he had ever perceived, and he had to admit: Lance was a fine young man. In every sense of the word.

 

Lance took him shopping in Kildonan Place. Merlin bought fresh clothes, while Lance browsed some very shady CDs.

 

Before he hit the road, Lance insisted on buying Merlin dinner. They went to Arby's and ate some great sandwiches.

 

\--------------------------------

 

He continued his drive through Winnipeg, Saskatchewan, Alberta, British Columbia, and then to Dawson which he left to drive up to Alaska.

 

In Alaska he tracked down a dark, bearded man who owned a boat and was supposedly going to Russia.

 

“If you ask me again, that will be the last time you see daylight,” the Canadian man warned after Merlin had asked him what he was going to do in Russia. The 'lone wolf', as he called himself, showed him to his boat. He told Merlin he could just wait in  _Valiant_  – the boat's name, and weirdly the Canadian’s name too – and that Merlin could use the tiny bed if he wanted to rest.

 

Merlin thanked him before entering the boat.

 

As Merlin stood in the doorway of the tiny cabin, about to jump on the bed, he noticed it was already occupied, by none other than Arthur.

 

Arthur sat on the tiny bed, his eyes closed. He had a pillow braced against the wall behind him in a feeble attempt to increase his comfort.

 

Merlin had not thought about him since the cruise ship. Nope, not at all. So when he saw Arthur lolling, that feeling in his stomach was just because he had never had a single good experience with water. Nothing else.

 

  
When Merlin's thoughts made him shift on the threshold, it squeaked, which made Arthur look up. For a moment all they did was stare at each other.

 

“I'm sorry. It was unfair of me to belittle you,” Arthur broke the silence.

 

“It's okay. Buy me a drink and we'll call it even,” Merlin rambled. “When we've arrived in Russia?”

 

“I can't very well be seen buying my competitor a drink,” Arthur had a tired smile on his face, but it was a good smile.

 

“Your competitor? You said you'd definitely win,” Merlin was now off the threshold, a few steps away from Arthur.

 

Arthur looked him up and down, lastly focusing on Merlin's mouth. “Now I'm changing my mind.”

 

Merlin didn't really know how to reply, but he decided to just go on impulse. Because of their last meeting, he took those last steps and kissed Arthur.

 

Arthur grabbed the back of Merlin's neck and dragged him down on the bed. Merlin moved his hands to Arthur's hips, grabbing maybe a little too tight. He bit down on Arthur's lower lip, his tongue following, licking over it.

 

Arthur opened his mouth, sucking on Merlin's tongue. Merlin moaned, moving to get a better angle, licking inside Arthur's mouth.

 

Merlin could have stayed like that forever. He was about to slither his hands lower when Valiant interrupted.

 

“The trip will take about half an hour,” he said, giving them a look which said 'don't'.

 

\--------------------------------

 

It was day 15 when they arrived in Russia.

 

“You know, we'd probably travel faster if we'd go together,” Merlin tried.

 

Arthur chuckled. “I like you, I do, but I didn't enter this competition to share the prize. I'm sorry,” he patted Merlin on the shoulder, “I'll see you when I see you, Merlin,” and with that he was gone. Again.

 

Merlin distracted himself by buying a yellow Volkswagen Beetle and driving to China. He went to a cozy restaurant owned by a huge, but very lovely, and hilarious guy named Percival.

 

Merlin hadn't really eaten anything since England – except some candy and cold pizza – so he got rice and noodles at the restaurant.

 

Percival told him he'd only recently bought this place, but the people loved him. He already had a handful of regulars, and the ones who only went through the town loved his food.

 

Merlin got to know why everyone loved Percival, and understood why he was already so close to the town's people. Merlin watched while Percival stole tiny amounts of food from other customers while they weren't watching. It had been a long time since he laughed that much.

 

He continued his journey through India, Myanmar, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, and took a ferry to a very green Australia.

 

Merlin drove through South Australia, observing the wild herbivores. They were independent, wouldn't ever rely on a human for anything. The koalas kind of reminded him of Arthur. All cute and fuzzy, but made him feel unimportant. So Merlin took the next flight out to South Africa.

 

He had to wait a day for his car while it was being shipped to him, so at the dock he took the next cab downtown and complained the whole way. The driver, Elyan, was so nice, he told Merlin he could stay at his place. Merlin called Gwen from there, mostly to whine about Arthur, but also just to chat.

 

“I want you to buy me one of those shell bracelets. Now! I can't trust you to do it if I leave you. Oh, and Gaius needs Devils Claws,” Gwen demanded. Merlin obeyed, forcing Elyan onto the phone to distract Gwen while he went shopping. When Merlin returned, he was surprised to find the two had bonded like siblings.

 

As soon as the sun rose Merlin started driving. He drove through Namibia, Angola, Zaire, and Sudan to Egypt. First he bought some wine in South Africa though. South Africa always made the best wine, in his opinion: soft, sweet, woody, and berrylike.

 

In Egypt he bought a souvenir for his mom to add to her big collection. She called them cat-women, the women from ~50 BC; Cleopatra look-a-likes. She secretly loved them.

 

\--------------------------------

 

  
  
Day 30 he passed through Syria, on his way to Turkey. From Turkey he went up to Georgia and Russia again. Finally, Merlin took his memories and souvenirs and everything the trip had given him through Ukraine, Poland, Germany and then beautiful France.

 

He decided to leave his little yellow Beetle in France and have it sent to England after all the stress from the trip was gone.

 

He took the next plane to England, which left on day 36 of his trip.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Gwen was waiting for him outside the airport with a sign smothered in hearts, which read: “Welcome home, Merlin!”

 

Merlin smiled weakly at her, gladly accepting when she offered to take his bag. As soon as he was inside her car he fell into an uncomfortable, but deep sleep.

 

He woke up when some car next to Gwen's honked. He moved his head to look and didn't even blink when he noticed it was Arthur, smiling brightly at him.

 

“Was that...?” Gwen gaped at him.

 

“Just hurry, will you?” he told Gwen before closing his eyes again.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Of course Merlin won. He hadn't eaten and he hadn't slept in almost 40 days. He wasn't going to let that be for nothing.

 

He was sprawled on the grass, the straws tickling his bare legs – the green probably painting his jean shorts – when he felt someone lie next to him.

 

“Congratulations,” he heard Arthur say. “I'm impressed. I honestly thought I'd win,” he didn't even sound tired.

 

Merlin didn't bother to reply.

 

“I really am sorry,” Arthur continued. “I do like you, I just tend to be very competitive,” Merlin felt him roll onto his side.

 

“Go away,” Merlin said.

 

And then he felt a hand on his chest, “Merlin, I said I like you,” and then Arthur was kissing him.

 

Merlin's hand went straight to Arthur's hair and tugged. When Morgana's voice beamed over the field, talking about the winnings and prizes, Merlin didn't care. Neither did Arthur. When she called Merlin's name, he just pulled Arthur closer. They lay there kissing like they'd never done anything else.


End file.
